Memories
by ThePhantom'strueAngelofMusic
Summary: *Warning: Contains Death* After Erik has died, Christine returns to fulfill her promise to him. Not my best work, but hey, it was fun to write. Thank for reading, hope you enjoy it. Leave a review if you want.


Memories

The never ending tears seemed to stream from nowhere as they ran down Christine's face. It was if she was crying for her and Erik, who now lay on the floor, clod and unmoving. Even though he had been cold in life, it was if a certain warmth had been drained from his body. Lifelessness was the only vibe that a human corpse gave off- the vibe that told Christine that she should just leave and never return. Never speak of what she found here in dark shadows of what had once been Erik's home.

Oh how Christine now regretted all that had happened in the days past. Why she was even here was beyond her- yes, she had promised to bury Erik when he had died, and leave the ring with him. But it wasn't like Erik would know. If she simply walked out and never returned to do as she had said she would, nothing would get in the way of her. Erik would not be around to beg of her this last duty. But all the same, something seemed to draw the young, former soprano to where she had once sung and into the cellar where she had first seen her tutor face to face.

Normally she might have had an issue with picking up the body, but in life Erik had never really bothered with food, only eating what he needed to survive. Being extraordinarily thin had never bothered him, and so he never tried to keep a normal, healthier weight. He was even thinner than Christine, especially now that death had claimed him in the month earlier- even the weight he once had seemed to disappear as Christine bent to the floor and gently slid a hand under the carcass's half rotted back, pulling the other hand up to her nose to attempt to block the pungent, putrid scent that was snaking through the air off Erik's body.

Christine gave up trying to block the horrid smell that streamed off the body- she was smelling it even with her hand in front of her nose. Instead, she tried her best to breathe shallowly, and she stuck he hand underneath the rest of the former Phantom's body and stood again. It was then that Christine realized she would need to find another way to dispose of the body. Taking it in a carriage to a cemetery would not work for various reasons- starting with how she would not even make it to a carriage if anyone saw her carrying a body in the crowded streets of Paris.

Instead, Christine gazed around herself at her current surroundings. There had to be a place in Erik's home that she could bury his body. It made sense if she thought about it more- Erik's home in the Opera House was always where he had seemed most comfortable to Christine. It was where Erik had everything, and more importantly his music. Why not bury in the place he would always be in spirit anyway? In the Opera House his memory would always haunt. He would always be a story- a legend that would make people scared of using the infamous Box 5 a hundred years later.

Finally Christine remembered. How she hasn't before baffled her. As she carefully stepped through the rubble of what had once been the magnificent underground home of Erik, now messy and scattered – probably because of his state of mind in his last few days after Christine had left with Raoul Victome de Changy, she recalled what it had looked like when she had first entered it. Lit by what seemed like hundreds of brightly blazing candles, Erik had taken her across the beautiful, calm lake and into his home. Now the empty tunnels were a mere shadow of what they had once been.

Reaching her destination, Christine slowed her determined pace and stopped to look at what had been Erik's room. The room of the man who had always kept it very neat, and never had anything out of place or unkempt was now in complete disarray. The carpeted floor was covered in Erik's fashionable tailored clothing, his spare masks and wigs strewn across the floor in every direction.

Stepping gingery over the mess, Christine reached what Erik had once used as a bed- a beautifully built coffin made from a rich, rose stained oak wood. Decorations such angels and the gates of heaven adorned the top, carved into the wood itself. The inside was already covered with a deep red blanket and two pillows of the same hue as the blanket. The polished lid lay off to the side, gleaming in the low yellow lighting. It was perfect for someone to be laid to rest in- and that was exactly what Christine intended to do. Why she didn't think of his coffin bed before was a mystery- part of her even wondered if this wasn't what he had always intended it for in the end.

She laid Erik's body in the coffin, gently rearranging his hands and feet to sit in the classic positions with his body perfectly straight. His masked face was staring with closed eyes at the ceiling. His hands were folded over his chest with long, pale fingers intertwined as he often held them in his life. On his left ring finger Christine placed the simple golden band that he had given to her before his death. On his face was a peaceful expression that Christine wished he had held in life. Tears once again starting to fall from her dull blue eyes, Christine swiftly dropped to her knees and said a prayer for Erik's forgiveness in heaven, and hoping that he would be in heaven- after his miserable mortal life; Christine wondered if he didn't deserve peace. She stood, briefly paused to wipe away dust from her gown, and began to leave. She looked back once to gaze for a final time upon the man that inspired her music for so long. He had deserved so much more than what this life had given him- misunderstood genius.

"I have done what you asked, Angel of Music. Do not ask my memory of me." She whispered breathily, turning, a choked sob following the words closely as she left for the surface world where she had a carriage waiting for her- where she might finally escape Erik's powerful grasp over her.

Somehow though, she knew that Erik would always be with her. Even in death, the Phantom of the Opera lived on in the minds that he known in his life.

**Okay, not my best work, but when writer's block hits it doesn't really like to let go. Tell me what you thought, any reader feedback is helpful, whether a good review or a constructive criticism one. Thanks so much for reading!**


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